Weightless
by Curlybear
Summary: Brothers are supposed to share the weight. So why is Dean always the bait? Sam decides to tell him how he feels about Dean constantly endangering himself after a hunt that goes wrong. Oneshot.


This piece inspired me during the easter, when I found myself driving through the Norwegian countryside. It is truly beautiful. Also, in the show, Dean seems to be the one who always does the most dangerous stuff. I think Sam is eventually going to say something about that, so I wrote about it, and yes, there is brotherly love. I hope you enjoy! And I appreciate feedback more than anything! Thank you so much.

**Weightless **

Dean was leaning pensively against the car and staring into the skies as if he could drown in them. As if he could hide in them from the constant harshness. The sunbeams that caressed his face somehow framed him in a gentle serenity. At that moment, he didn't look so burdened. Sam wondered what he was thinking about, what was going through his mind, before every hunt like this. Although it looked as if he was in peace, Sam knew that Dean was pondering heavily. Something was bothering him, and that was _everything_ at the moment.

"What are you thinking about?" Sam asked, scooting closer to Dean. His brother gazed at him warmly. His smile was weak though.

"Nothing... Let's go." Dean said, simply; evasively.

As soon as Dean stepped away, the tranquil light diminished from his face, and Sam watched him walk away, stared intently at his back. As he did, he could see the weight that his brother carried, the tiredness that was wrapped around his soul. Sam followed.

* * *

Despite the thick greyness that blanketed the forest, enhancing an enchanting and unexplainable beauty, it was only a trick. Sam knew this, but unconsciously, he became entranced. He couldn't stop staring, stuck in a place between dream and reality. Dean knew that Sam was a preferred target, and was keeping two eyes on him. Sam saw this. Dean nudged him frequently, sometimes hard, but other times gentle, reminding him of the falseness that the spirit created. Sam blinked, startled for a moment, before following his brother further up the trail.

"So, are we good with the plan?" Dean asked. The tone in his voice suggested that he would not take no for an answer though, making the question pointless. Just to clarify things, Sam suspected. He stopped and stared at Dean's back, and his head turn over his shoulder in curiosity.

He didn't like the plan. He never did like them.

Because lately; Dean was always the bait, putting himself in danger, standing between Sam and the enemies that they faced. That was selfless, almost noble, but also completely stupid. Sam was tired of watching Dean get hurt. His brother was always doing that, for Sam's safety.

What happened to sharing the weight?

"Sam? What are you doing, daydreaming?"

Sam sank into reality again and found himself staring profoundly at Dean's half concerned, half irritated green eyes. He sighed, knowing that arguing against the plan would be futile, but he couldn't help but put his foot down.

"Dean... I don't like this." He said, sternly.

"Oh come on, nothing's going to happen. You salt and burn the bones while I distract the damn thing." Dean answered. But that wasn't _nothing._ This was a violent spirit, seeking revenge after being brutally murdered by a man in the darkness of the forest, alone... Once an innocent girl, now a spirit shrouded in hate, killing every man who comes across her grave. They were on there way now towards its territory, and Sam was getting more restless by the minute. He could feel the spirit encompass every tree, and even in the mist that surrounded them.

"Dean..." He said, and he felt his voice constrict with an emotion that suddenly erupted within him. Fear...?

Dean stared strongly at him, before abruptly turning around.

"We're close." He said, ignoring Sam's quiet pleas. The brothers continued onwards in silence, and with full alertness. Dean had already taken out his gun, stepping stealthily across jagged rocks. They came to a small cliff with an opening, framed with withering trees.

There was the grave, if you could even call it that. There was a small circle of silver stones adorning the brown dirt. There were hardly any remains, but the spirit lingered here for some reason, in anger. Currently, this was a popular hiking route, and it had already killed three people. Sam felt strangely nervous, a feeling he fervently tried to push away, but was unable to. He kept thinking about Dean's safety.

"Get to it, Sam." He heard Dean say, with a rough voice. Sam obeyed, knowing that if he was efficient, Dean would come out of the fight okay.

He spoke too soon.

The spirit already emerged in front of Dean, icy features mixing in with the mist. Immediately, Dean led it away from Sam, aggravating it with several direct shots. Sam began to search for the remains, digging quickly through the damp dirt. Luckily, he found them almost immediately. He continued the process as smoothly as possible, salting the bones rapidly, before eagerly grasping the gas can...

Sam felt the spirit's aura strengthen, and anxiously turned around to inspect Dean. He seemed fine, fending off the spirit well. However, he suddenly saw his brother struggling as the spirit attacked him. Dean was abruptly pushed back and thrown through the air. Landing brusquely on the sharp ground, he tried to recuperate, but was unable to after a second attack. He rolled harshly a couple of times...

Before disappearing over the edge of the cliff.

Sam's heart skipped a million beats.

"DEAN!" Sam called, worry consuming him. He stood up, and could see Dean holding on, but just barely.

"Don't stop Sam! Keep going!" Dean called, angrily. Sam, with weak hesitation, began to soak the bones. Erasing his will to go over there, he focused his attention on continuing his job.

This was the way to help.

He dug through his pockets and hastily retrieved a packet of matches. Lighting one, he threw it on the prepared bones. Sam watched the flames flicker with brightness for only a moment.

Unquestionably, Sam threw himself over in Dean's direction. He felt the spirit's aura diminish dramatically, merging as one with the sky, and disappearing gradually. He could hear its screams, deafening and unreal at the same time. Suddenly, Sam felt it pull him back, away from his brother, in a last attempt to fulfil its dark vengeance. Its cold hands grasped his neck, crawling underneath his skin, but then it was suddenly gone, and Sam remembered to breathe. He collected himself quickly.

It was gone.

Dean.

"Dean... Dean!" He called, running towards the edge of the cliff. Relief washed through him as he saw his brother holding on with his bare hands, grasping the sharp rocks with fortitude. How did he do that?

"Give me your hand!" Sam shouted, outstretching his, reaching for Dean's. Sam moved closer, almost hanging off the cliff himself.

"Careful, Sammy." Dean managed, between heavy breaths.

Finally, their hands met, and Sam felt Dean's strong grip, warm and comfortingly familiar despite the roughness of his skin. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, as Sam pulled Dean up, firmly and determinedly.

They landed in a heap on their backs, exhausted and overwhelmed by the situation.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, concern evident in his face.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm okay." Dean answered. Sam barely believed him. They both calmed down, and for some reason, ended up sitting and watching the scenery, which wasn't bewitched and corrupt anymore. The mist had evaporated and Sam for the first time saw the true beauty, pure and warm.

"That was crazy, man." Sam finally spoke.

"Damn bitch almost pushed me off the cliff..." Dean muttered.

Sam sighed, deciding that this was the right time to express how he felt about the recent hunts. The sunlight gave him courage.

"Dean... I can't do it anymore." Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Dean looked at him, curiously.

"I can't watch you putting yourself in danger all the time... I won't. Dean, you are always the bait."

"One of us has to do it, and since you're such a pussy..."

Sam rolled his eyes in mild irritation.

"There are other ways of taking down a spirit, Dean... Different strategies..." Sam argued.

"Yeah... How?" Dean asked, challenge in his voice.

"Well, I can be the bait sometimes too, Dean. I can... share the weight. We're in this together, okay?" Sam said, sternly, accentuating his last words. He wanted to get through to Dean, dive into his green eyes and reach him.

Instead, Dean managed to touch Sam's heart.

"Remember when you asked me what I was thinking about earlier today?" Dean asked, with a small smirk.

"Yeah..."

"In the past, I didn't think too much about what would happen during a hunt. It was always simple: watch your back, watch out for Sammy, and annihilate the target's ass." He paused for a second.

"But lately, before every hunt, I wonder how it will go. And hope that nothing happens to you. That I'll be able to protect you..."

Dean radiated a strong sincerity.

And Sam looked back at him in silent appreciation, the same as Dean's.

"Dean, you can't protect me all the time... I know it was Dad's last wish, but please... I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

Then Dean was silent for a long moment. Sam wondered if Dean was going to block him out entirely and abandon their conversation, which was usually the case. He had already opened up considerably. But then he looked at him, eyes soft and almost shining.

"I can't lose you." Dean said, very quietly.

"You won't. But I can't lose you either, alright?" Sam answered, clearly.

"Thanks..."

For what? Sam thought. That Sam actually needed him? That was a sure thing. That Dean meant something? More than anything...

Dean was an idiot sometimes.

"You have no reason to thank me."

"Whatever, dude."

Again, a silence enveloped them, but this time it was pleasant. The sun was setting, colouring the sky with bright pink and soft orange. For once, just for a brief moment, Sam felt at peace, like he was weightless, no burdens or worries. Just him and his brother bathed in the fading sun. He hoped that Dean felt the same way. He deserved it more than him.

They sat there for another half hour, talking about everything, and Dean slowly reverted back to his old self, joking around and smirking like he was the king of the world. And Dean _was _in Sam's eyes. But he wasn't about to feed Dean's pride.

"Should we go?" Sam asked, beginning to feel the cold creep up his spine.

"Just five more minutes... I mean, this is your ideal setting isn't it, you being such a whiny girl and all." Dean said, more lively than he had been in weeks. Their previous conversation must have banished some weight after all.

"You're the one who wants to sit here longer."

"Shut up..." Dean uttered.

The scenery _is _pretty great though." Dean finally admitted.

"Yeah, it is." Sam agreed. But the company Sam had was ten times better...

**The end. **


End file.
